Towards Morning | Page 3

he had run away out of a terrible battle. He was amazed that everything in the street was just as usual. He looked at a little boy in his blue overall, his satchel strapped to his shoulders like a knapsack so grave and earnest and anxious. He looked at the big infantry soldier coming along with his clumsy and effective swagger and he felt that he saw them for the. first time. He was amazed that he had never realised them before. They were stages in one development and the first stage of all was the sound of a woman crying. They meant fear and remorse and pain*
He saw how terrible they were.
He looked up at the window in the top storey of the big house.
"It wasn't like her to cry like that she never cried like that before."
Then he remembered how late he was. He walked fast but with dignity till he came to a side street and then he began to run.
II
He was not used to it. His lungs ached and his knees shook under him. And he was ashamed. He felt red with shame right to his very soul. He knew that Gross-herzogliche Staatsbeamten never ran. Nor were they ever late. They were always at their post, weaving their little pattern into the vast national design with absolute efficiency and dignity, without haste or disorder. Now he was late and running and running absurdly a sort of shambling trot, his face very red, his glasses jogging on the bridge of his nose.
A vague, unhappy anger ran through his shame. He did not know with whom or with what he was angry. It had something to do with Clarchen and that terrible crying. Either she shouldn't have had to cry like that or he shouldn't have had to run. There was something wrong about it all. It did not belong to the neat scheme of his life. It was as though a maniac had burst into his office at the Stadtamt and thrown all his papers out of the window. He wanted to cry, too. The tears made the rims of his eyes redtears of pity and worry and sheer physical weariness.
A man came out of a house at the corner of the street. He was tall and broad with consciously squared shoulders and a strong slow step. He seemed to be leading an invisible procession and to be gravely not unworthily aware of his responsibility.
The Herr Amtschreiber stopped running. He choked back his gasping breath and set his glasses straight. It was as if he had suddenly remembered his own little bit of a procession and was trying to call it to order. Three paces away he swept off his hat and carried it reverentially.
The Geheimrat Kohler blinked at him, hesitated and finally stopped. Actually. Though he had married Clarchen's sister the Herr Amtschreiber had not expected more than a nod had perhaps not wanted more. For he was dreadfully late. Yet he was glad, too. He wished some of his colleagues could see the Geheimrat patting him on the shoulder.
"Na, mein Lieber, how goes it? My wife asked me to enquire. She would have called herself, but you know how it is. She is to have audience with the Grand Duchess this afternoon. With regard to the Frauen Verein, you know. Still she was very anxious. The Frau Gemahlin is doing well, eh?"
The Herr Amtschreiber made a little bow.
"It's very kind of you please thank the Frau Geheimratin. I don't know I I am rather worried terribly worried." The rising tears in his heart almost welled over, "When I left her she was crying not just crying groaning. It was awful. I I don't know what to do. It's intolerable that any one should have to suffer like that. I can't believe that it's right. I can't believe that every one has to suffer."
Herr Kohler burst out laughing. He had a hard, rasping voice which he retained from his Garde- Lieutenant days in Berlin.
"My dear fellow you're too newly married, that's what's the matter. Women have to go through with it. It's their duty. They were made for it. Mustn't make a fuss. Mustn't encourage them to make a fuss. We can't do with parasites in this country. Every one to his duty. We fight they bear children. There's too much of the old German Sentimentalitates Dusel left. Must be rooted out, eh, Felde?"
The Herr Amtschreiber nodded seriously. He felt suddenly stern and stiffened as though the Geheimrat had rammed a poker down the back of his coat.
"Yes, yes, of course."
"Na, gut. It must be a boy, eh? You know the good old custom the first child to the Kaiser. A fine boy. See to it, my dear fellow."
The Geheimrat laughed and the Herr Amtschreiber laughed